


Collateral

by Aylwyyn228



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Consent Issues, HYDRA Trash Party, M/M, Painful Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Relationship Negotiation, Steve Rogers Feels, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-01 06:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13289124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aylwyyn228/pseuds/Aylwyyn228
Summary: Based on a Hydra Trash Party prompt: Due to many decades of abuse, being penetrated hurts for Bucky. So when he's back with (preferably) Steve, he does want to initiate a full sexual relationship. Steve tends top, and Bucky wants to please him and pretend everything is fine.There was something broken inside him, that much was abundantly clear. And all of Steve’s lube and his hesitant fingers? Well, that just prolonged the feeling that all his nerves were on fire, that he was burning from the inside out.He’d taken to thinking of it as kinda like a mission (and wasn’t that just fucked up?).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Full prompt: https://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/2271.html?thread=5765599#cmt5765599  
> So, many decades of abuse have left Bucky's rectum...sort of messed up. It might look perfectly fine because of the serum, but having been torn and retorn: there's some nerve damage. No matter if there's gentle foreplay or lots of lube, it's always going to hurt for him.
> 
> Combined with the psychological aspects, being penetrated always hurts.
> 
> So when he's back with (preferably) Steve, he does want to initiate a full sexual relationship. Steve tends top, and Bucky wants to please him and pretend everything is fine. So he lets himself be fucked frequently (gotta keep up with that superhero libido) despite it hurting like hell. He just grits his teeth, acts, or makes up excuses. ex. "Those are happy tears, Steve".
> 
> Bonus points if  
> \- the serum made Steve "above well endowed" and Bucky suffers even more than average  
> \- if Steve eventually finds out and is horrified.  
> \- if Bucky actually need anal to cum, despite the pain
> 
> It would be nice if there's no magic fix, and they'll always have to choose between pain and not having a certain type of sex (which might mean no Bucky orgasms otherwise).
> 
>  
> 
> Originally posted on Dreamwidth: https://hydratrashmeme.dreamwidth.org/2271.html?thread=5802207#cmt5802207
> 
> I tagged this with Consent Issues because it is a point of discussion between Steve and Bucky, however, there is no non-con or dub-con between the two of them. Let me know if I missed any tags or warnings.
> 
> Enjoy!

 

“You got shares in KY? Let’s get this show on the road, Stevie.”

Steve just shot him that sheepish smile and tossed the bottle onto the side.

Bucky supposed it was endearing, in a kind of sweet way. No, it was. Steve was very careful. Very, very careful. Had been from the second they’d started exploring each other again.

And that was nice, not exactly unexpected, but nice.

Always took the time to make sure Bucky was ready. To make sure he wouldn’t hurt him.

Which was largely the fucking problem, cos that was a lost cause right there.

He knew he oughta go and see someone, some doctor or something, but the thought of walking into some surgery and stripping off kinda made him want to tear his own skin off. So that was out, for the foreseeable.  

And Steve’s ever so freakin careful prep was the opposite of helpful. Seriously.

There was something broken inside him, that much was abundantly clear. And all of Steve’s lube and his hesitant fingers? Well, that just prolonged the feeling that all his nerves were on fire, that he was burning from the inside out.

He’d taken to thinking of it as kinda like a mission (and wasn’t that just fucked up?). It was always gonna be godawful from his end, and Steve gently fingering him open was doing absolutely nothing to help that, or to achieve the primary goal.

So get the fuck on with it already, Stevie.

He grinned at Steve, who was rubbing at the back of his knee, watching him intently. “Come down here.”

Steve smiled, and crawled over him with carefully placed limbs, until he could snatch a kiss. It was light, not leading anywhere, and Bucky could read what Steve was saying without words. They could stop here. They didn’t have to go any further.

But no way was Bucky gonna listen to Steve trying to jerk off silently in the bathroom. Not again.

He caught Steve’s lip between his teeth, just tugged slightly. “Come on. I’m ready.”

“Alright.”

Steve deepened the kiss, dropped a hand to beneath his hips to tug him upwards, and then he pushed right in. Bucky couldn’t stop the gasp, but he guessed that was ok, that was normal. Nothing to hint at the sandpaper scrape way up inside him.

He kissed Steve harder, biting just a little, to distract him, to distract himself, because Christ, even though he knew there was enough slick between them that it was dripping out onto the sheets underneath him, it felt like Steve was goin in dry.

Steve stopped, waiting for him to get used to the intrusion, but it was never gonna happen. He just wanted it over.

“Move.”

If Steve gave a doubtful click of his tongue, it wasn’t enough to stop him. He set a slow, deep pace. It was like getting reamed with broken glass.

Nevertheless, the second Steve brushed over that place inside him, his already vaguely interested cock sprang to attention like it’d been trained into him, (which, to be fair, it could have been). And there was something deep in the back of his mind, that remembered the feeling, the ghost of what pleasure felt like, and wanted to get there again.

It was a small part, mostly drowned out by the bit of his brain screaming at him to push Steve off.

Steve’s movement faltered, then he stopped entirely, which, frankly, was so much fucking worse. “Buck?”

“’M good. Keep goin.”

Without even the little sparks of pleasure, the ache of pins and needles deep up inside him was unbearable.

A hand on his hip, a silent prelude of the reassurances that were coming. Steve’s too blue eyes drawn in concern.

Bucky cut him off. “Jesus. Come on, Stevie. Don’t leave me hangin.”

There was a long, long pause. “Ok.”

Steve started moving again, but it was interminably gentle and slow and fucking infuriating. Hitting nothing but fried out nerves.

Bucky let out a frustrated grunt.

“Come on.”

He pushed at Steve’s shoulder to get him to lean up, kept his legs tight around his waist while they shifted position because no way in hell was he starting all over again. With a bit of manoeuvring, he managed to get enough leverage to be able to set a pace that might actually see Steve finish at some point in the next week.

Steve let out a punched-out gasp and buried his face into his throat, so that he could feel each breath, hushed in the quiet of the room.

He knew his silence was unnerving. At the very start of all this, Steve had found it so off putting that he kept asking if he was ok every thirty seconds, making the whole thing that much more of an ordeal.

Steve had eventually seemed to decide, and Bucky had not corrected him, that it must be some kind of latent conditioning, and accepted it as part of their new normal. He didn’t bring it up anymore.

There were a lot of things he didn’t bring up.

Of course, the real reason was that Bucky didn’t think he could fake that. Wouldn’t be able to keep the edge of stress and pain out of his voice.

And then there’d be questions and Steve’s goddamn puppy face and neither one of them would manage to get off.

Little involuntary noises started escaping Steve, right in his ear, little things that were trying to be words, and overwhelmingly he felt a surge of affection. Because this was why he was doing this. This was why he would put up with it all. Because Steve gasping out his name like that was worth everything.

He picked up the pace, and a little flicker of pleasure began to edge above the burning.

And he wanted it. He wanted it so fucking bad.

Steve was panting something out but it either wasn’t words or Bucky was too busy fighting to keep concentration to figure it out.

It was too much, far, far too much and his own orgasm felt too far off to be bothered with. Too difficult to get to.

Bucky felt Steve’s hand drop down, brush against the base of his cock. Bucky slapped his hand away, and earned an apologetic nip at his throat. But it didn’t matter, if he was forgetting shit like that, then it meant that Steve was real, real close.

Then it would be over.

Even as he thought that he felt Steve tense, the burst of warmth inside him which almost made it worth the getting here. He held Steve up, letting him catch his breath, murmur words and kisses into his neck.

Bucky stroked into the back of his hair and told himself this was worth it.


	2. Chapter 2

Steve leaned back, all flushed and messy haired. “Sorry.”

For a second, Bucky didn’t have a clue what he was talking about, then he caught the glance downwards.

Ah, Stevie, always a fucking gentleman.

“Don’t matter.” Bucky kissed him. “I don’t mind.”

He could feel Steve’s hand against his hip, so he deepened the kiss in the hope Steve might lose interest. Of course, that wasn’t doin a whole lot to help _him_ lose interest.

Steve was pushing him back on to the bed, kissing down his throat. “Buck, lemme-“

“No.”

Steve sat up, bit his lip. “I’m sorry I forgot. I won’t touch you there. I promise. I know-“

“Stevie.”

“Yeah?”

Christ, he was so sweet. Really, it should be illegal.

Bucky smiled, caught his hand, pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “It’s fine, really.”

Steve grinned, relieved. He ran his hands up and down Bucky’s ribs, in a way that was clearly meant to be seductive, but which landed squarely in cute. “Well, let me make it up to you then.”

He couldn’t say no.

Well, he could, clearly. There was no one he trusted more than Steve. There were times when Steve hadn’t touched him for days because he’d said no, not even to let their hands brush. He’d never made a thing of it, come back without a word when Bucky had opened his arms.

But here, in this setting, in their own bed, Steve would ask questions, and there was no answer Bucky could think to give that wouldn’t result in Steve’s face crumpling.

He couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear that look on his face. Not ever, but certainly not when he was the one to put it there.

So he just smiled. “Sure thing, Stevie.”

Steve grinned and hitched his way back to sit between Bucky’s legs, the same way they’d started all this. He felt the press of his fingers, and something about the very recent memory of what it felt like had him tensing automatically.

Steve dipped his head to run kisses up the inside of his leg. “Let me in, baby.”

He made himself concentrate on the scuff of Steve’s stubble at the top of his thigh, the warmth of his tongue. He let himself slip back years, to when the window frame rattled in the wind, and this would’ve been the highlight of his day.

He felt Steve breach him, for the briefest of seconds it was like it would’ve been all those years ago. Then the burn started.

He couldn’t help the grunt, knew Steve must have felt him tense.

He forced a laugh. “You got some magic fingers, buddy.”

He cringed internally that that cheesy shit was the best he could come up with, but whatever, it had the desired effect. Steve huffed a laugh and went right back at it.

It was marginally better once Steve found his mark.

He felt it again. Buried under everything else. He wanted this.

But he didn’t know if he could. He couldn’t chase the feeling, not when he was so over sensitive from having Steve inside him before. Something Steve was brushing was sending little twinges up his spine and that was killing any chance he had of finishing.

What was worse was that Steve could tell he wasn’t into it, could see it in his face, in the little line that had appeared between his brows.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, cos that was gonna be the final nail in the coffin. “Stevie?”

The kiss to the hip was a question.

“I need… more. Need you.”

Another kiss. And Steve plunged another finger in, which wasn’t exactly what he meant but had the desired effect. His flagging erection perked up at the added pressure.

He groaned, and it was just the wrong side of pained, but he didn’t think he could keep it in if Steve kept goin like that. He turned his head and bit into the flesh of his wrist. Was pretty damn certain his other hand was ripping at the sheets.

Steve was murmuring something, probably some ineffective attempt at bedroom talk, but it didn’t matter, Bucky couldn’t concentrate on that. Not when the confusing fire burn was whiting out his brain. It felt like the crackle of tasers, the smell of ozone, but it was also the heat deep in his gut.

He wanted…

Wanted to kick Steve off and curl into a ball.

Wanted more of him. As much as possible.

He bit harder into his arm, tasted copper, and that was a bright white crescendo above everything else. As long as he focussed on that, the searing up inside him faded away.

He was moving now, Steve having to press into his hip to keep him where he wanted him. He was pretty sure he was crying, warm tear tracks down his temple, but the sharp pain in his arm was keeping him present, focussed on the end game.

He wouldn’t stop now if the world was fucking ending. Not after all it had taken to get this far.

He panted into his arm as he came, feeling like he was burning up from the inside out.

And holy Christ was it worth it.

***

He was pressed up against Steve’s side when he woke up, arm flung lazily over his stomach. Could feel Steve brushing lightly over the hair at the back of his neck, and the phantom ache inside him, almost like years ago.

Steve had dragged the sheets over them while he’d been zonked.

He shifted slightly, hummed to let Steve know he was awake, and smiled as Steve pressed a kiss to the side of his head. “Sap.”

“Yep.” Steve’s hand drifted to his arm, running up and down the skin. “Do you..?”

“Mmm?”

Steve brushed his thumb over the inside of his wrist. “Do you get off on this?”

His tone was very carefully non-judgemental.

Bucky opened his eyes to look at the little ring of pink indents. The skin had already healed over. By morning there’d be nothing there.

He sat up, so he could straddle Steve’s lap. “Get off on you.”

Steve laughed. “Your lines are worse now than in 1938.”

“Got you in the sack, didn’t it?”

Steve grinned and kissed him, trailed down his throat. “I never needed any lines.”

However long he’d been asleep had been enough to get Stevie back in the game. Bucky could already feel his interest beginning to stir again.

He sighed into Steve’s kisses. He was tired, and he felt a little sick.

But he sat back anyway, flashed the brightest smile he could manage. “So, ready to go again, cowboy?”


	3. Chapter 3

They piled out of Sam’s car with a shout of thanks and little else. Steve just about caught Sam’s wry smile before Bucky was tugging at his wrist, pulling him on towards their apartment like a juggernaut.

Steve was still flushed, still full of adrenaline high, and a single glance at Bucky told him that he was exactly the same. Because it’d been close. Not the closest it’d ever been, Christ no, but still.

They’d checked in with each other on the field, in the car, running hands over limbs, checking for breaks or blood. But it hadn’t been enough, not to satisfy Steve.

Not Bucky either, by the looks of him.

No sooner had they got the door open than Bucky dragged him into a kiss. He could taste the tang of blood dried against Bucky’s lip. Felt the thrill of the dread that had settled deep in his gut.

He pulled away. “When you went down-“

“Didn’t stay down.” Bucky kissed him again, tugging at his lip, and trying to strip away the top of his suit. Laughing when he couldn’t. “I’m fine.”

Steve smiled too, managed to get the suit away from his shoulders. “We oughta shower.”

Bucky clicked his tongue, dropping his jacket to the floor with a thud that said there were several weapons still secreted within it.

“Oughta be naked, Rogers. Less chit chat.”

Steve didn’t need telling twice.

Their clothes were left in a heap by the door, as Steve started walking Bucky back towards the sofa, working kisses down his throat.

Bucky huffed again. “Bedroom, champ. Slick it up.”

Steve couldn’t help but snort.

“Don’t laugh at me, punk. Tryin to get you worked up.”

Steve kissed him in apology. “It’s working, don’t worry.”

It was as well as, between the adrenaline crash and Bucky just, well, being Bucky, Steve was more worried about being able to make it as far as the bed.

He pulled away, practically dragged Bucky forward. He fumbled in the drawer at the side of their bed and by the time he turned around, Bucky was already on all fours on the comforter.

“Jesus, Buck.”

Bucky was watching him over his shoulder, smirk on his face that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

Steve got himself ready, dropped a kiss onto the small of Bucky’s back and edged a couple of fingers inside. Bucky barely needed anything, muscles still relaxed from… Christ, it must only have been that morning.

“That alright?”

He had to look up to see Bucky’s nod, stilted by his fist between his teeth. He’d taken to doing that recently.

Did it mean he was close?

Steve bit his lip and didn’t ask. Bucky didn’t like it. Less talk, more action, he’d say, and Steve had pissed him off enough at the start of all this.

Well, if he was close, that didn’t bother Steve one bit. This was definitely going to be a sprint finish.

He withdrew his fingers, and lined his cock up. He met pretty much no resistance at all.

“Oh fuck, Bucky... Jesus.”

He started moving, couldn’t help it. He tried to keep to the pace Bucky seemed to like. Harder than he usually liked it, but right now he wasn’t complaining. He was hitched up with his knee on the bed, trying to get as close as possible and being frustrated by the position.

He wanted all of Bucky. He wanted everything.  

He leaned down to kiss against Bucky’s back.

And opened his eyes.

All of Bucky's muscles were taught. That wasn't odd in itself. It was often difficult to... Bucky didn't always….

But Bucky had his eyes buried in his elbow. His shoulders were shaking.

The realisation hit him all at once. 

"Bucky?" He pulled back, met with a sharp gasp. "Buck?"

There wasn't any answer. Bucky just propped himself up on his elbows are kept crying into his hands.

Steve staggered back. He didn't know what to do, whether to touch him. Every instinct wanted to just gather him up, but he didn't know what this was. What had set it off.

Bucky was completely silent, just his slightly wet breaths in to give him away. His shoulders hitched and that broke through all of Steve's resolve.

He stumbled forward, climbing up onto the bed and laying a hand tentatively on his back. When he didn't flinch away, he started rubbing against Bucky's back. "What's wrong? What is it?"

Bucky just leaned into his leg. "Hurts, Stevie."

"What?" 

Steve's heartrate shot up tenfold, because they must've missed something. Bucky was hurt bad. Must be hurt real bad, and it was his fault, he didn't notice. Why didn’t they see a medic? He didn't... 

Steve dropped his hand to Bucky’s ribs, where the flesh was just beginning to bruise. Down onto his stomach. Bucky didn’t flinch.

"Bucky?" Steve brushed his hair back, tugged at him until he looked up. Running over the smears of blood on his face. "Did you hit your head? Where are you hurt? Buck?"

Bucky didn’t answer, just ducked his head again, hitched himself up until he was practically laying in Steve’s lap.

And a sudden awful thought entered Steve’s head. He flicked the sheet over them both, ineffectively, but enough to cover Bucky up. “Do you mean… Did I..?”

He was stroking at the back of Bucky’s neck and he felt the tension flood through him.

“It’s not you.” Bucky looked up, all apologies and red rimmed eyes. “It’s not your… Ah, fuck. I never meant…” He dropped again, squirmed his hands beneath Steve’s back. “I’m sorry.”

Steve was automatically patting at him. “Why didn’t you stop me? Why didn’t you… Is it bad? Lemme see.”

He leaned forward and Bucky flinched. It was almost nothing. Over and gone in a heartbeat, a reflex caught and stopped.

But Steve saw it.

And he was pretty sure a little piece of him shrivelled up and died.

“But… you always…  Why wouldn’t you say something?”

Bucky didn’t answer, and a sudden anger flooded through him, thinking of all those nights. And all that silence.

He pulled Bucky up. “How many times? How many times did you just lay there and let me..?”

He couldn’t finish. Couldn’t let that thought out into the air, where it’d be given substance.

Bucky looked away.

Steve felt suddenly sick. He couldn’t… He had to get out…

He shoved Bucky off, stood up.

“Stevie!” Bucky made a grab for his hand. He shrugged him off. “Stevie, please.”

He didn’t look round. Didn’t stop until he got to their bathroom and locked the door behind him.

***

He realised he’d been stood staring at the tiling for the longest time, hands pressed over his mouth. Because he should’ve known. How could he not know?

Bucky was always so quiet. He never… He thought of a thousand times when he wasn’t sure. He should’ve stopped. Why didn’t he stop?

Steve dropped his hands.

He couldn’t do this now. He felt sticky and wrong and he realised they’d never showered after the fight.

He flicked the shower on and stood beneath the stream of water, until the room misted up and his skin flushed pink.

But he couldn’t stop the whirl of thoughts. Because what kind of man..?

No. He made a deliberate effort to empty his brain. To just not think of it. Without meaning to he found himself running through Sam’s breathing exercises.

Oh.

What would Sam say? What would Sam think of him?

No. Just breathe.

Breathe.

He managed to shower. Managed to avoid just sitting under the stream of water, and by the time he walked back into their bedroom, he’d calmed down… mostly.

Bucky was curled on his side, facing away from him. He made no sign he’d heard Steve come back.

He padded across the room, and slipped in behind him. When he didn’t flinch away, Steve looped an arm over his chest and pressed his face against the back of Bucky’s neck. He smelt of old sweat and smoke, and Steve didn’t give a shit.

There was a moment’s pause before Bucky entwined their fingers, and they lay breathing.

“Are you ok?”

He felt Bucky nod. “S’alright. ‘S nothin, really.”

Steve had to stamp down the flare of anger. It wasn’t useful here. It could only ever make things worse. It was bad enough how he’d already reacted.

“Can I see?”

Bucky shrugged, the barest of movements. “Nothin to see. I told you. It wasn’t you. I’m just…”

He didn’t finish, but Steve could guessed the end. Fucked up. Broken. They’d had that conversation enough over the last few months. He thought they’d maybe got past it.

Now he doubted they ever would.

“What happened, Buck?”

Another long pause. “Please, don’t make me talk about it. I don’t want that here… Not in our bed.”

He sounded endlessly tired.

Steve kissed the back of his neck in apology.

But he had to know. Had to know one thing. He pulled him closer to his chest and Bucky came back easily. Steve tucked his chin into his shoulder.

“Were you scared I wouldn’t stay? If we didn’t… If you…” Steve’s throat closed up and effectively cut him off. He swallowed tightly.

Bucky sighed, deep and exhausted. “No, Stevie. I just wanted you. I only ever wanted you.”

Steve had to press his face into Bucky’s back, so he wouldn’t let the tears fall.

He pulled himself together and pulled back. “Do you want to shower?”

“No.”

Steve kissed into his hair, sweat damp and musty. “Ok, Buck.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Are you sure?”

Steve knew they’d had this conversation about eight times today alone. But he had to be certain. Had to…

Bucky knelt up, to catch his mouth, rubbing circles into the side of his jaw. “I want you.”

“I know, but I just-“

“Stevie.”

Steve shut up, let Bucky keep kissing him. He eventually sat back, looking flushed and perfect. He cupped the back of Steve’s neck with both hands.

“I’m certain, ok?” 

“It’s just it’s getting late.”

It was past midnight. The day had been much busier than they’d anticipated. They’d had to stay late for urgent meetings, which had turned out to be not so urgent after all, and then had called at the all-night diner for burgers with Nat and Clint.

So all in all Steve was regretting his promise to Bucky that morning.

Steve stroked over Bucky’s hip, trying to think of a way to pacify him.

“We’re both tired and-“

“What is it? You only want me during daylight hours, Rogers?” Bucky leaned back in, started nosing underneath his jaw. “S been too long, Stevie.”

He could hear the hurt behind it, and felt like a massive piece of shit.

“Alright.”

Bucky hummed into his neck. “Could use a little bit more enthusiasm there.”

Steve brought a hand up to lift Bucky’s chin up. “Take your jeans off.”

Bucky smirked, started shucking his clothes. “Never could resist your Captain voice. Now,” Steve felt his hand slip to his waistband, “you need a hand there?”

“You know- Bucky!”

Steve lost track of his words as Bucky slipped his hand inside. “I know, darlin, I got you.”

Steve forced himself to relax, let Bucky work him up. But then Bucky had always been good at that, getting him out of his own head.

By the time Bucky started kitten licking down his chest, he couldn’t believe he’d held out so long. He pulled him up so he could kiss him properly. “Lay on your back.”

A faint smirk pulled at Bucky’s lip. “I dunno, if you’re too tired…”

Steve tackled him back onto the bed.

The next few minutes were all hands and mouths and Bucky giggling and calling “Foul ball, Rogers!”.

They came to a stop, panting and laughing, Bucky grinning as he looked up at him. “Go on.”

Steve smiled and made a stretch for the bottle on the side, slicked up his fingers. He worked his way inside Bucky, Bucky relaxing to take him easily.

But now he knew about it, he couldn’t miss the intake of breath, the way the muscles tightened in his jaw.

“Buck..?”

“Keep goin.”

Bucky’s response was tight lipped, grimaced. And for the first time Steve understood. Why Bucky was so quiet, when the rest of the time you could barely shut him up.

It was to keep up the pretence. The lie that everything was fine.

Because he felt he had to lie to him.

He faltered, half pulled his fingers out, earned a dismayed grunt. “Stevie.”

“Sorry.”

He tried again. Trying to find his mark inside Bucky.

To be honest, he was flagging, and the thought of pushing inside Bucky, while he was fisting into the sheets, biting himself bloody, just to get through it?

It was too much.

Holy Christ, he’d made him cry last time. Sobbing into the fucking sheets. While he just pounded into him, like…

It was too much like…

Well, that put paid to any chance of any of that tonight. His half hard dick was giving up the ghost entirely.

He redoubled his efforts, trying to get Bucky off so they could at least end this without an argument and go to bed…

…But Bucky didn’t get off on it.

He’d confessed, once, the only time Steve had managed to get him to talk about any of it, that even the pressure of Steve’s finger was unbearable. So all this was just…

Steve sat back.

Bucky opened his eyes, lips bitten red raw with the effort of keeping from crying out.

Steve felt sick.

“Stevie?” Bucky looked confused.

“I can’t, Buck.”

There it was again, that flicker of hurt above something else, something harder, too fleeting to catch. Bucky sat up, dragged the sheet over himself and pulled his knees up to his chin.

And Steve felt awful.

He dropped a hand onto Bucky’s arm. “I’m sorry.”

Bucky pulled away, ducked his face into the crook off his elbow, said something Steve couldn’t make out.

“I don’t wanna hurt you, Buck.”

Bucky snapped up, all sudden anger. “Why not? Everybody else did. What makes you so fucking special?”

Steve could see in an instant Bucky wished he could take it back, so he very, very purposefully let it go.

He reached out again, and this time Bucky let him. “You gotta talk to me. Please. We gotta talk about this.”

“You wanna talk? How about we talk about the fact that you’ve barely touched me in three weeks?”

Bucky’s eyes were looking distinctly wet.

“Buck-“

“Don’t do that. Don’t say ‘Buck’ like you can shut me up.” Bucky pulled back again. “Three weeks, Steve. Used goods, is that it?”

“Stop!”

The worst thing is that it was so absolutely ‘Bucky’, that it made Steve’s heart ache. Bucky had always had a wicked tongue on him when he was upset. He crafted words like barbs, until they lodged in your gut and speared you right through.

“Stop,” Steve said again, calmer this time. “Stop twistin what I’m saying.”

Bucky just ducked his head again, looking utterly defeated. “This is why I didn’t tell you.”

“It’s not that, Buck. I swear. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand hurting you. Maybe… Maybe we could try it the other way round.”

“I can’t.” Bucky spoke into his knees.

“But maybe we could-“

Bucky looked up. “Look, I can’t, ok? I can’t do it, and it’s embarrassing. That enough sharin for you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

At least Bucky was letting him touch him now, letting him rub circles into the back of his hand with his thumb.

Steve sighed. “It just feels too much like… Like…” He couldn’t finish.

“But it ain’t. It ain’t like that at all.” Bucky uncurled himself from where he was huddled, all earnestness. “I want you. I want you so bad, Stevie. It ain’t too late,” Steve felt his hand on his waist, was already shaking his head, even as Bucky was moving forward, “maybe we could-“

Steve pulled back. “No. Not tonight.”

“I promise you, I ain’t lying.” Bucky tugged his hand up and kissed it. “I want it, Stevie. I want you.”

Steve snatched his hand back. “Well, I don’t.”

Bucky’s face instantly went cold. “Fine.”

He snatched up one of the pillows, and stalked out, leaving Steve staring at the door as it slammed closed behind him.

He punched the mattress. Did it again for good measure, and again, until the springs squealed. He wanted rip the room apart, smash it to matchsticks, and tear himself apart with it.

He was so angry. An icy rage settled deep in his gut. He wanted to rip it all down around his ears.

He wanted to march into the other room, pick Bucky up and shake him. For refusing to discuss anything. For shooting down all of Steve’s attempts at compromise. For making everything so much fucking harder…

And then he hated himself for that. Because Bucky didn’t owe anyone a damn thing. Certainly not him.

All he’d ever done was let him down for a whole goddamn lifetime and even now, he just couldn’t stop fucking up.

He hated Hydra and everything they’d taken from them. He hated that they’d both fought and died for nothing at all. He hated that even now it wasn’t over. It was just one thing after another, and it never fucking ended.

But more than that, and most of all, he hated the entire goddamn universe that had decided _this_ was what they got.

Neither of them had done anything to deserve any of this. Not a thing.

Steve was tired.

He was so, so achingly tired of fighting.

He pushed himself off the bed and wandered into the bathroom. Splashed some water into his face from the sink.

He stood up, watched the droplets running off his reflection and had the sudden urge the drag the mirror from the wall. To shatter it against the porcelain.

He didn’t.

He reached up instead to unhook it and took it to rest on the floor inside their closet. He shut the door on it with a click.

Bucky was laid on the sofa when he went to find him, watching some teleshopping thing with the sound down low. Steve could just about make out the frown on Bucky’s face, half hidden by his hair.

On the TV, the names of people who’d bought the limited edition items were scrolling across the bottom of the screen, while a couple with plastic smiles were gesticulating enthusiastically over some electrical appliance.

Steve watched in silence for a couple of minutes, wondering what had happened to babyjewel57 from Lafayette, Indiana, that meant she was buying a fake ruby ring at three in the morning.

He flicked his attention back to Bucky who was resolutely not reacting to his presence.

“Are you coming back to bed?”

Bucky didn’t look up. “No.”

Steve turned back into the room. Just as he was closing the door, he heard Bucky’s sigh. “It’s not fair.”

It oughta be petulant. Childish.

But it wasn’t.

It was just sad.

And Steve agreed completely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your comments! I'm sorry I haven't had time to reply individually, but work's giving me a bit of a kicking at the moment. I'm really glad you're enjoying it (if enjoying is the right word!)


	5. Chapter 5

Bucky didn’t sleep.

Once Steve had fucked off and left him alone, he got up and found the Luckies he’d hidden from Steve under the bottom of one of the drawers. Laid chain smoking them until it felt more like a punishment than anything.

It wasn’t fair, Steve’s reaction had been normal. It was normal to be horrified.

He guessed he just forgot sometimes. Forgot how normal people would react to things. Forgot that he was so fucked up, he didn’t know what normal was.

He flicked the TV off, it was too bright, too loud with fake happiness. He turned over and pressed his face into the back of the sofa.

He shouldn’t have pushed Steve. He’d said no, and it wasn’t-

He felt sick.

He knew what it made him, wiped his eyes angrily at the thought cos he didn’t have any right to be upset about it. Not when it was him that’d done it.

Not when he’d said such godawful things, when Steve’d been nothing but patient.

He would apologise. Wasn’t so great with words anymore, but Stevie would get it.

He hoped, anyway…

He should apologise now.

It’d got light while he was busy beating himself up. Steve liked to wake up with coffee. That’s what he’d do. He’d make coffee, the way Steve liked it, with too much sugar and no milk, and he’d apologise.

And he’d let Steve say all the things he’d refused to listen to for the past three weeks.

That thought made his stomach all twist in knots.

He didn’t want to hear it. Hear why Steve couldn’t carry on like this. Why he didn’t want him anymore… Not in that way, anyway.

He felt absurdly that that might just kill him. That if Steve said that he’d just burn up into smoke.

But Stevie wanted to talk it out, and even if Bucky couldn’t be entirely sure, he was pretty certain he’d been giving in to what Steve wanted since about 1930.

He got up and made the coffee, then hovered outside their bedroom door, unsure whether to knock.

Did people do that? If it was their own bedroom?

Christ, he was fucking ridiculous.

He knocked, let himself in when there was no answer. 

Steve was still zonked, sprawled out on his stomach with his feet tangled up in the sheets. An unhappy tension across his shoulders.

Unsurprising. Steve slept like the dead. Sam joked that the serum let him fit twenty-four hours into sixteen, and then he had to crash out to make up the difference. But the truth was he'd always been the same. 

Bucky had always had to physically drag him outta bed so he wouldn’t be late for whatever work he’d managed to bullshit his way into that week.

He looked down at the coffee in his hand, feeling even more like a fucking idiot. It was, what, seven in the morning? They’d been up past three. Of course Steve wouldn’t be awake. Of course he wouldn’t want to drink coffee in bed and let Bucky down easy.

He oughta leave. Maybe go out, give Steve time to think about how he wanted to do this. But the thought of leaving it, of having to wait all day to talk, made the knots in his stomach turn to lead.

Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted Steve now. Wanted whatever he could have of him. 

There was a frown across Steve's face, faint lines pulling at his forehead even while he asleep.

Bucky was pretty damn sure he’d put them there.

"Stevie?"

Steve snuffled in his sleep but didn't wake up.

"Stevie, it's mornin. And I wanna talk to ya."

Steve made a definite noise of protest and tried to burrow down into the pillow.

Bucky was rubbing circles into his back. "Come on, punk. Wake up." 

Steve came awake all of a sudden, half levering himself up out of the bed to squint up at him. “Buck? Y’alrigh’?”

Bucky just nodded and held out the mug like that could cover the awkward silence. And if he needed any more evidence that that was not the right thing to do, the look on Steve’s face was more than enough.

Steve managed to rouse himself a little, took the mug with a tiny ‘thanks’. Then just stared at it.

Neither of them said anything else.

Bucky kinda wanted to sink into the floor. “Can we pretend I didn’t just do something weird?”

Steve smiled faintly, flipped the comforter back. “Get in.”

They settled themselves against the headboard, a good six inches of space between them. It felt uncomfortable.

Steve didn’t seem to notice. He raised an eyebrow. “You know it’s Saturday, right? Not that I don’t appreciate the wake up call. And the truly excellent instant coffee.”

For a second, Bucky thought he might just cry.

“Buck? I didn’t-” Steve dumped the mug on the side, closed the distance between them. “Come here.”

Bucky let Steve wrap an arm around his shoulders, pull him into a hug.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?” There was a beat as Steve apparently realised. “Last night wasn’t-“

“I oughtn’t have pushed you, Stevie. You didn’t want to, and I-“

Steve pulled back suddenly. “What?”

“I know I shouldn’t have. I won’t do it again. I don’t… I don’t want to be that person.”

Steve was just watching him, a look on his face that made Bucky just want to shrivel up.

"Jesus, Buck,” Steve said, finally. “It wasn’t- Don't even think it. Don’t ever think that." He trailed off and Bucky could hear the barely contained anger in him, could just about feel it shaking in him. "You couldn’t ever-"

“But I did.”

Steve just looked at him, ran his eyes over his face. He dropped his head into his hands. “Fuck. I never meant to make you feel- Look, what happened last night, it wasn’t because of that, alright?”

“I know.” Bucky said it instantly, even though it wasn’t true, because he couldn’t bear that look on Steve’s face. He reached out to let his hand stroke into Steve's hair. "It was cos it makes you think of those other guys." 

He got that. It made sense.

Steve sat up, leaving Bucky’s hand hovering awkwardly.

“No.” He said it emphatically, like he couldn’t believe he had to. “It’s cos I can’t hurt you, Bucky. I just can’t. Listen,” He closed his fingers around Bucky’s and lifted them to his lips. "I want you to know that if we don't ever do that again, I'm OK with that. I don't want you to feel you have to. I don't mind if we never do it again."

Bucky felt the familiar stab of hurt. The immediate thought that Steve didn't want him anymore, not now he knew. 

He stamped that down. Steve was just being honest. It wasn't his fault if it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Bucky?"

Bucky sighed, went through half a dozen trite statements that would effectively end the discussion, then changed his mind. 

He didn't want to carry this all alone anymore. 

"I don't want that."

Steve was rubbing circles into the back of his hand. "What do you want?" 

What did he want? He wanted everything to be like it was. He wanted their tenement and their shitty jobs, and the window pane that leaked every time it rained.

Pressing his hand over Steve's mouth, in case he made too much noise when he came. Having to stop every time they heard footsteps on the stairs, breathing into each other’s skin, pulses thudding in their ears, waiting for the knock on the door. 

He wanted Steve. Warm, and smelling like home, even in the midst of hell on earth.

He wanted all of that.

He looked at Steve, still right here. Still looking at him that same damn way.

"I want to feel like we’re in it together again.”

Steve frowned. “We are-”

“Like it was. Without all this other shit in between. I want to be able to tell you everythin.” He squeezed Steve’s hand. “I guess I just want you back.”

Steve closed his eyes, took a couple of deep breaths. “You always had me. You know that? But I can’t always read you. I can’t-“ He made a noise in the back of his throat, and apparently gave up on words.

He leaned in and Bucky saw what was coming quickly enough that he didn’t flinch back. Their lips met, light and chaste at first, then deepening as Bucky let Steve in, let his hands come up to cup his jaw.

Steve pulled back just enough to let their foreheads touch. He laughed, a little breathlessly. "You've been smokin again."

Bucky grinned back. "You’re a goddamn bloodhound."

"Am I gonna have to search the house?"

"I finished the pack. ‘Sides, they’d been there like three months. You can’t find anythin for shit."

Steve accepted the point with a smile. He hitched himself back to lay down. “Come on. I need to sleep for about five days.”

Bucky let himself be tugged down to lay across Steve’s chest, felt Steve’s hand drop into the back of his hair, his other trailing fingers up and down his side. “So, you still want to… you know?”

Bucky smiled. “Have sex with you? Yeah, Stevie, I do.”

Steve hummed. Bucky felt the huff of it ruffle his hair. “What did’ya mean…”

“Mmmm?”

“Last night. When you said you couldn’t… um… That we couldn’t switch.”

“Oh.”

Embarrassment welled up again. The need to just curl up into a ball. To sink into the fucking earth so he didn’t have to see all that pity.

But that was just stupid. It was him that just made a goddamn speech.

It felt so fragile. Like there were strands of spider silk binding them together. And he’d been trying to hold it together with his bare hands, with lies and fake smiles.

It’d only just occurred to him, that maybe it was him snapping the strands.

He caught Steve’s hand, entwined their fingers, glad that Steve could pretty much only see the top of his head. “Umm… I can’t really feel it, so I can’t, you know, get it up… without something inside me.”

“Can’t feel it?”

Bucky felt his stomach squirm.

“When you touch me there.” Maybe it was intentional, who the fuck knew? He didn’t say that because he was pretty sure it would make it worse and Steve was already tensing up. Bucky pressed his face harder into his chest. “All my nerves are fucked, Stevie.”

He didn’t mention the weird pins and needles that went in waves over his skin, or that sometimes he couldn’t quite feel his fingers. Between the ice and the electricity, it’s a wonder they hadn’t fried out his entire nervous system.

That was probably a conversation for another day.

Steve made a noise, squeezed his hand tighter. “I need you to promise me somethin.”

Bucky kissed his chest. “Anythin.”

“If we’re gonna do this, I need you to see a doctor.” Steve must’ve felt him tense, because he went back to stroking over his side. “I don’t mean right away, but Buck, I gotta know that I’m not hurtin you bad, ok?”

That was fair.

“Alright.”

“And I gotta know that you’ll stop me, if it’s too bad. I can’t… I just can’t…”

Bucky sat up so he could kiss him again. “I know. I promise.” He laid back down and squirmed his arms around Steve’s waist. “We are doin this then?”

“Course. I ain’t gonna leave my best guy cold.”

Bucky smiled.

“I mean it, Buck.” Steve said it in that tone that no one in their right mind would argue with. “We’ll figure it out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, despite the fact that I said this was all finished, I just rewrote most of this chapter, and I'm still not really happy with it. But anyway, hope you liked it!
> 
> One more to go!


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky could feel the tremble of Steve’s thigh beneath his hand, so he slowed his pace. Pulled back so he could just lap at the head of Steve’s cock.

He earned a strangled groan in return, a “Bucky, fuck.”

He pulled off entirely, kept the rhythm going with his hand as his kissed up the soft skin of the inside of his thigh. “I know, darlin, I got you.”

He didn’t make him wait any longer, took him back in fully and it was barely thirty seconds before he was pulsing down his throat.

He sat back, with a grin. “Told you.”

“I know.” Steve’s skin was flushed, all the way up his chest and neck. He was breathing heavily. “I know you did. Oh Christ.”

“You gonna bet me again?”

Steve could only shake his head.

“Good.”

“How… How many times was that?”

“Like, five. You’re a machine, Rogers.” Bucky crawled up around him, until he could kiss him.

“You aren’t bad your-“ Steve made a noise of disgust at the taste of himself, and Bucky didn’t give a fuck.

He kissed him once more and then settled down so he could trail his fingers across Steve’s chest, as he waited for him to get his breath back.

He felt Steve’s lips press into his hair, his hand slip down. Bucky couldn’t help the irritation. Steve was determined to find a way, like he could fix everything on his own, through sheer stubbornness.

But underneath all that there was a flicker of hope. He wanted it to work.

So he rolled onto his back and let Steve try. He could feel Steve’s hand, just about, could feel the curl of want in him as his body remembered what it was supposed to be doing. But the weird numb feeling was distracting.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus, to will himself to…

He sighed. “Stevie. Ain’t gonna happen, darlin.”

He felt Steve withdraw his hand reluctantly, opened his eyes to see his disappointment.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky kissed him, and took up his position on Steve’s chest again. “I’m gonna go. See that guy, doctor, what’s his name? Gutierrez or something.”

Steve hummed. “The one Sam likes?”

“Yeah, I’m goin next week.” He paused. “I got Sam to call, actually.”

He felt the rumble of Steve’s laugh under his cheek. “Sam’s good at that, making you think that it was your idea.” Steve kissed the top of his head again. “I’ll go with you,” he added, like Bucky’d had any doubt.

Bucky knew it burned at him. Steve had tried every possible way to get him off without hurting him. But there was no way. And every failure made them both feel like shit, even though that was just fucking stupid.

“You know there’s no guarantee, right? I might never-“

“I know. I know that. I just want to know where we stand.”

“Alright.”

They laid in silence for a few minutes, and then Steve started laughing, loose and quiet.

Bucky smiled. “You keep going like that you’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

“You remember that time we came back from that bar, I musta been about nineteen? Was it somebody’s birthday?”

Bucky thought about it for a second, tracing patterns against his skin. “You mean that time I fell over tryin to get my pants off and you blew your load before I even managed to touch you?”

He could feel Steve shaking underneath him and looked up to check that they hadn’t flicked over from hilarity into tears... They were both prone to that now.

But no, Steve was fine, laughing into his hand. “It was not our finest hour.”

“I dunno, pal, you seemed to think I was pretty sexy.”

“You crawled across the floor towards me, Buck. In your underwear. I call foul.”

Bucky laid back down. “I still think somebody dosed me.”

“Yeah, yeah, cos ‘you only had one’.”

He remembered that, laying on top of Steve, crushing him probably, and just repeatedly slurring into his neck ‘I swear it, Stevie. Was only one. S’mebody slipped me a mickie. I’m tellin ya.’

“Oh God.” He buried his face into Steve. “Hydra couldn’t take that one, huh?”

Steve didn’t laugh.

Bucky cast about for a change of subject. “It was Larry. His birthday, I mean. You know, that guy from Illinois? I worked with him for a while. I forget his last name.”

As soon as it was out of his mouth, he regretted it, but Steve just hummed, wrapped his arms around his back. “I don’t think you ever knew his last name. You didn’t like him much.”

“Hmmm. Bet it was him who dosed me.”

That startled a laugh out of Steve. “Why would he possibly do that?”

Bucky pushed himself up, so he could straddle Steve and kiss him properly. “Cos I’m fucking red hot.”

He swallowed Steve’s laugh, deepened the kiss when he felt Steve’s hands on his waist. He eventually pulled back, just to look at him.

Steve was smiling. He didn’t move his hands. “You know, I probably got one more in me. If you wanted.”

Bucky tried not to let his face show anything. Not relief or nerves, in case it was wrong. In case it put Steve off. Steve hadn’t offered, not since _that_ night.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Steve nodded emphatically. “We’ve talked about it and talked about it. I want to make you happy.”

“You always make me happy.”

“Sap.”

“Jerk.”

He saw the flicker pass across Steve’s face the second before Steve surged upwards to roll them and pin him to the bed. Alternately kissing and nipping at his throat.  

Bucky felt heat flood downwards. Christ, he wanted him so bad.

Steve had definitely noticed that a certain part of his anatomy was finally starting to get with the programme. “I want to make you feel good.”

So he was right, this was still about not being able to jerk him off.

But no, he didn’t oughta think that way.

This whole thing was about Steve getting his own head straight, and working his own way through a whole heap of shit that he hadn’t let himself think about before.

Bucky got that. He wanted to say he’d got there on his own, but honestly it’d taken a couple of calls from Sam. Bucky had been such a shitstorm of emotions at first that Stevie had to push all that to one side and be ok. But eventually he had to take some time to be not ok with it.

Because how could anyone be ok with it?

With knowing what had happened, the wreck it’d left of his body, on top of everything else.

Once Bucky’d realised that he’d just had to wait for Steve to come back to him.

Steve would always come back to him.

Steve was waiting for his word.

Bucky let himself smile. “Get on with it then, punk.”

Steve grinned and dipped his head to lick and kiss a trail down his chest. Then he stopped. He’d managed to slip a hand just under the curve of his ass, but no further.

There was a tiny frown just pulling at his forehead.

“Hey,” Bucky waited Steve met his eyes, “you want me to?”

He could practically hear Steve thinking. Whether it was the honourable thing to let Bucky get himself ready. Whether he oughta take the ‘penalty’ because he was about to hurt him. Whether any of it was the right the thing at all.

Stevie, always a fucking martyr.

“It’s not a trick question, darlin.”

Bucky was already reaching for the slick.

“I… could watch?” Steve said it like it was a compromise.

“Kinky.”

Steve smacked his arm.

He got his fingers slicked up and reached down.

It was bad.

It’d been weeks and he had force himself to remember how to relax into it, but more than that, he’d got used to not feeling that burning down there, inside him.

He made a noise, took a second to remember that that was ok now. Steve wanted him to be honest.

Still…

God, it fucking hurt.

It was…

Steve’s mouth suddenly covered his, chaste and light.

He kissed him back, harder. “Touch me.”

Steve did, running his hands up his ribs, across his chest, and all the time exploring his mouth, biting at his lip.

His entire body was a strange mix of sensations. His fingers were a dry ache inside him, too rough and too stretched. But then Steve’s hands and mouth, every so often the sharp nip of teeth, were sending waves of want right to his cock.

And he couldn’t reach far enough inside himself, couldn’t get the right angle.

It was fucking unbearable.

“Stevie, fuck,” he struggled to push Steve back from where he’d apparently decided to give him the world’s biggest hickey, “Stevie, I’m ready. Jesus!”

Steve finally sat back, looking pretty wrecked already with his hair stuck to his forehead and his cheeks flushed. He just grinned his slightly dopey grin, and absolutely forced Bucky to kiss him again. “So, how’d you wanna do this?”

“Come here.”

He let Steve move him where he wanted him, which turned out to be on his lap. He got it, Stevie wanted him to take the lead on this one. He would happily oblige.

He positioned himself over Steve, groaning as he felt the stretch.

“Fuck.”  He dropped his head onto Steve’s shoulder. “Shit. Fuck.”

“Buck?”

He just nodded, pressing his face harder into Steve’s skin.

He’d forgotten how bad it was. He always forgot, that’s probably why he was so eager to do it again. But it was worth it, he knew it was worth it.

It would be.

He shifted slightly, felt Steve scrape inside him.

But Steve also had his arms around him, holding him up, and was muttering into his skin. He couldn’t really hear him but he’d lay money on what he was saying.

He started to move, experimentally, gasped as he found the right angle.

“Bucky?” He opened his eyes, Steve was inches away from his face. “I love you so much.”

Bucky laughed, more of a huff of air punched out of his lungs as he moved. “Love you too, Ste- Ah, fuck!”

Steve pulled him closer, let him duck his head into his shoulder and bite at his skin. He was pretty sure he was crying now, the sharp sting of it dragging the tears out of him. It was sending shooting pains up his spine, making his legs weak.

“Buck?”

“Green.”

“OK.”

Stevie loved that whole traffic light thing he’d found online. Bucky didn’t really see the point, why it was any different to ‘stop’ or ‘no’, but if it made Steve happy.

He wanted to finish so bad, but it wasn’t enough. Not to drown out the pain, to let him chase the feeling.

“Stevie, I want- Shit-“

He could hear Steve gasping in his ear. “Yeah?”

“I want- Fuck!” He was beginning to lose it. “Fuck, I can’t.”

He felt Steve kiss his neck. “Alright, baby.”

He let Steve reposition them so he had a bit more leverage. And then he thrust up. Hard.

Bucky cried out with it.

“Buck?”

“Jesus! Gre- green!”

That was apparently all the encouragement he needed, because Steve went at it like a goddamn piston.

Bucky was making little keening sounds, and it oughta be embarrassing but he didn’t give a fuck, because there were glass shards inside him, and fucking electricity up his spine, but Steve’s teeth were scraping on his throat, on his shoulder, and Steve’s skin was beneath his nails, and he was biting and kissing at him, and all of it was pushing him over the edge…

And…

And he gasped as he came, and that was enough to set Steve off as well, because he could feel him inside him.

Steve was kissing ‘I love you’s into his jaw, but he couldn’t manage to reply.

Couldn’t manage to do much of anything at all.

***

“Bucky?” Steve was laughing at him. It was a nice sound. “Let me up, ya big lug.”

“No.” He tucked his face into Steve’s neck.

Stevie was a nice pillow and Bucky was not moving, not when he felt so fucked out and floaty.

He felt Steve’s hand on his back, patting at him. “Come on, wanna clean us up.”

“Later.”

“Come on!”

He gave in and let Steve roll him off him, landing on his back in a way that sent a twinge up inside him. “Urgh. How are you always so fucking chirpy?”

Steve didn’t answer but Bucky could see the smirk on his face as he wandered into their bathroom.

“Oh wow! Buck, people are gonna talk.”

He hitched himself up on his elbows, to see Steve looking at himself in the mirror. He had hickeys all across his neck and shoulders, bright pink scratches all across his back.

“Huh.” Bucky kinda liked it. “Do I look as bad as you do?”

Steve snagged a washcloth. “Worse.”

Bucky laid back down, threw an arm across his eyes, let himself doze as the water turned on and off. He felt Steve’s weight depress the bed, groaned at the feeling of wet across his stomach but generally let Steve do whatever he was doing.

Until, Steve dipped a bit lower.

He flinched automatically, grabbed at Steve’s wrist.

“Sorry.” He released him.

Steve was frowning. “Does it still hurt?”

Bucky shrugged. “Little bit.”

“Can I help?”

“No. Leave it.”

He felt Steve shift on the bed. “Can’t I-“

He smiled. “Red, Stevie.”

Steve jerked backwards so hard he almost fell off the bed. Bucky heard the cloth splat against the floor.

He sat up. “That was a joke,” he said lamely.

Steve looked as if nothing in the world could be less funny. Bucky just watched him, knelt on the end of the bed. He wished suddenly he’d put fewer marks on his skin.

“Hey,” he waited until Steve met his eyes, “I could use some water.”

Steve flashed a hesitant smile. “Sure thing, Buck.”

He settled himself up against the headboard, so that when Steve came back, carrying a glass of water and several coloured packets, he could slip in at the side of him.

“I brought snacks too.”

Steve deposited the packets on the comforter, handed Bucky the glass, and took his allocated spot, curled up against Bucky’s chest. “You know I love you, right?”

“As if you’d let me forget.”

He felt Steve smile, felt him trace the bottom edge of one of the lower bruises on his chest. “You were right, you are pretty sexy.”

“Jesus, if you need to go again, you’re gonna have to go jerk off somewhere.”

Steve laughed. “I think I’m good.”

“Good, cos I am closed for business.”

“God, how’d you ever convince those dames you were so smooth?”

Bucky thought about it.

“I had to act in front of them. In front of everyone else.”

He didn’t add the ‘except you’, but from the way Steve squirmed closer he guessed he got it.

He pressed a kiss into Steve’s hair. “Hey, Stevie?”

Steve looked up. “Yeah?”

“You ok?”

With this? With everything?

Steve just smiled. “Yeah, I am.” He laid back down. “Are you?”

“Yeah, Stevie.” He kissed into his hair again. “Green.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there we go! I didn't want to make there just be a quick fix, since I thought that their ability to communicate was probably the main problem, but I think they're getting there. I hope you all liked it!


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I did promise an epilogue for anyone that wanted to know about the doctor's visit.
> 
> I hope it rounds things off nicely. Here be comic book science!

“This is the worst coffee in the world.”

Steve shot him a grin that didn’t even edge on being amused. “That’s what you’re thinkin about now?”

“Unless you want me to have a panic attack, yeah, I think I’ll fixate on the coffee.”

Steve looked away. “Sorry.”

Because in seventeen minutes he was going to meet Dr Gutierrez for the first time, other than a brief phone call when Gutierrez had asked him to go for some tests.

That’d been grim. Green linoleum floors and electrodes, and him trying to pretend he hadn’t thrown up in a hospital toilet thirty seconds after he first saw an MRI machine.

He didn’t want to think about it.

The coffee was in a styrofoam cup, bitter and gritty.

He had a vague memory of drinking coffee like this, halfway up a mountain in the snow, out of a container that gave the whole thing a metallic taste.

But he wasn’t sure he hadn’t made that up.

One look at Steve told him not to ask. He was wound tight, all edges. A muscle in his jaw twitching rhythmically.

Bucky nudged him with his foot until he got a brittle smile in return.

From the table they were sitting at, they could see out into the main entrance of the hospital. It was bright and airy in that kind of chemical way. Spongey wipe down seats for waiting. Strange abstract art that was designed specifically not to trigger any kind of emotional response in anyone.

It was fucking awful.

As he watched, a woman was being led out of the elevator by a nurse. She was heavily pregnant, hair tied up messily. Mascara streaks down her cheeks. The nurse led her to one of the seats and held her hand, talking quietly to her. After a few moments, the woman nodded and shakily pulled out a cell phone.

She was crying again before the line even connected.

Bucky realised Steve was watching her too.

He sat back, pulled his leg away from Bucky. “I hate hospitals.”

“I know.”

That was understandable, he’d hardly had the best of experiences. Bucky could still remember his one and only visit to Sarah Rogers in the sanatorium.

There were some memories he wished he’d lost entirely.   

Steve was still watching the woman. “Have you ever heard any of Wanda’s theories?”

Bucky shook his head.

Steve gave him a wan smile. “What is it Clint calls it? New Age bullshit? She says that places hold memories. That that’s the reason places like churches feel the way they do, because so many people have been in them.”

He looked back over at the woman, still talking on the phone, her hand over her eyes.

“If that’s true of anywhere, then it’s hospitals,” he said. “Too many people have cried in here. Leaves a weight.”

Bucky just nodded, because what else could he do?

But privately he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t sure that people didn’t just carry that weight with them anyway.

Maybe places like hospitals were the only places they had to confront everybody else’s as well.

***

Doctor Gutierrez was incredibly handsome, Bucky could see that as soon as he walked in, but he was also the kind of man who absolutely knew it. His grey suit was clearly expensive, perfectly cut. There was a tan line where his wedding ring should be.  

Bucky was very, very aware that he hadn’t even brushed his hair that morning. Between the doctor and Steve, he kinda felt like a gremlin that’d been dragged out of its den.

Instantly, Steve’s hand was on his back, steadying him.

He didn’t usually know quite how he felt about it, the protectiveness that Stevie couldn’t seem to lose, but today he could live with it.

As soon as they took their seats, Steve put his arm right back. Thumbing up his spine. Bucky pressed back into it.

Gutierrez held out his hand. “Sergeant Barnes, we spoke on the phone.”

Bucky forced a smile and took his hand. “You can drop the ‘Sergeant’. That was a long time ago.”

And it still sent a shiver through him, thinking about that name in Zola’s voice.

Gutierrez inclined his head and switched his attention over. “And Captain Rogers.” He smiled faintly. “Or perhaps not?”

“Steve.”

“Right,” Gutierrez sat back, all business again, eyes scanning over his screen, “lets see what we’ve got.”

The moment seemed to go on fucking endlessly. Bucky didn’t realise he was jiggling his knee up and down until Steve reached across to take his hand.

And suddenly he felt absurdly that Steve was holding him together, front and back.

Christ, when did he get so fucking pathetic?

“Well,” Gutierrez looked back to them, hands clasped neatly in his lap, “firstly there’s good news. You have no peripheral nerve damage.”

Bucky wasn’t sure he’d heard right, would have asked him to repeat it if it hadn’t been for Steve’s suddenly bruising grip.

“None?” Steve’s voice was very tight.

“None.” Gutierrez was scanning over the screen again, as if checking. “The results of the NVC and the EMG were clear.” He looked back at them. “They were the tests with the electrodes-“

Steve was squeezing his hand again. “Yes, we know. Well, that’s-“ He looked across, like wasn’t as much in the dark as he was. “That’s good, isn’t it? You… you said on the phone that that would be hard to fix. So that’s good.”

Gutierrez gave a tight smile. A grimace. One that had Bucky’s heart just about freezing in his chest, but that seemed to pass Steve by entirely.

Bucky could feel it in him, through his hands. All that hope.

He’d set his heart on a quick fix. That everything would be just peachy.

Despite half a lifetime of experience to the contrary, Steve still had absolute faith in the power of medicine.

Legacy of his mother, and probably Dr Erskine as well.

It made Bucky’s heart ache for him a little. 

Because the thing was, if his nerves weren’t fucked, then it was all in his head. Like every other damn thing.

And there was no fixing that.

Gutierrez was very clearly attempting to address all of this to him.

Bucky watched as his eyes flickered over to Steve, and to Steve’s vaguely possessive hands, and back.

“Mr Barnes-“

“Bucky.”

“Bucky,” the name fell uncomfortably out of Gutierrez’s mouth, “would you prefer to discuss this privately?”

He felt Steve stiffen beside him, knew that he would leave in a heartbeat, but that he would be hurt. Terribly, awfully hurt.

And he wouldn’t ever say anything about it.

He squeezed Steve’s hand. “No. We’re good.”

Gutierrez just nodded, took a deep breath that set Bucky’s teeth on edge. “Well, I have the scans you took the other day. A CT scan, and an MRI? Is that right?”

Bucky nodded.

“Alright,” Gutierrez didn’t take his eyes off the screen as he swivelled it round to face them.

The image didn’t make any sense at first, just a jumble of greys and blacks.

And then it did.

Bucky realised he was leaning forward. “Is that..?”

Steve made a noise, something vaguely animal.

“This is the MRI scan that was taken of your brain.” Gutierrez cleared his throat and gestured towards the screen. “This is scar tissue. It’s located largely in the medial temporal lobe. It’s to be expected with your, um, history. Do you find you’re forgetful or-“

“Yes.”

Steve answered for him, quickly. Bucky knew he was thinking of all the times he’d come back to find the stove left on or half made cups of coffee, and him off doin something entirely unrelated in another room.

But quite frankly, Bucky didn’t give a shit. He couldn’t see a damn thing in the mass of grey Gutierrez was gesturing to. And that his memory was fucked was hardly news to either of them.

He was much more concerned with the part of the image that Gutierrez was apparently deliberately ignoring.

But Gutierrez was just nodding as if everything was completely fucking normal, with that awful fake sympathy all doctors seemed to have.

“We’ll keep an eye on it, but it seems to be stable. It may well resolve itself.”

There was another silence, one where Bucky was pretty sure all he could hear was the pulse in his own ears.

His throat felt tight. “And that?”

There was a long pause. The doctor was looking distinctly uncomfortable. All three of them were staring at the screen.

At the tiny white disc that was apparently lodged in his brain…

and which definitely shouldn’t fucking be there.

“Yes.” Gutierrez’s hand jumped to his mouth. He seemed to realise after a second and dropped it decisively back into his lap. “That is… something I’ve never seen before.”

He trailed off, and for a second Bucky was frightened that no one had any idea. That the things Hydra had done to him were so far outside the realm of the ethical, or even the believable, that not even modern science had a clue.

He was unfixable and dangerous.

And there were men outside the door. Straight jackets and nuthouses. Tables they could fucking strap you on to.

The taste of rubber.

“Buck?” Steve was crouched in front of him, squeezing at his knee. That tiny frown on his face. “You alright? You back?”

He nodded, because he wasn’t sure he could speak. Steve had switched to rubbing circles into the back of his hands. “Do you want a minute? Go outside, get some air?”

Steve was looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered in the world, and something twisted inside his gut. He’d promised Stevie he’d talk to a doctor, so he was gonna talk to a goddamn doctor.

He smiled. “No, I’m alright. Wasn’t anythin.”

Steve stood up and retook his seat. But from the way he was shooting looks over at him, Bucky knew that he would end this is a heartbeat if he thought he had to.

He made an effort to sit up straight and pay attention.

Gutierrez was watching him, something flickering across his eyes that Bucky couldn’t quite read.

It took Steve’s prompting to get him to start again.

Gutierrez sucked in a breath and gestured to the scan. “This is a neural implant. From the technology, it’s been suggested that it might date to the early 60s, but with the quality of the scans...” Gutierrez was searching his face. “I take it you didn’t know?”

There was a brief moment when hysteria threatened to overwhelm him. When he might dissolve into laughter, because did this guy really think he wouldn’t have mentioned that?

_Hey, doc, I got some weird ass symptoms. I also got a chunk of metal embedded in my brain. Ya think the two might be related?_

“Buck?”

Steve’s hand was on the back of his neck. He’d taken too long to answer, but he still couldn’t get his mouth to work, so he just shook his head.

“Is it…” Steve trailed off with a deep breath. “Why is it there?”

“Neural implants stimulate or block impulses between neurons. This one appears to block certain signals from the somatosensory system.”

Another silence.

“I’m sorry?” Steve’s voice was acid sharp. It oughta have stripped the paint from the walls.

“Sorry, um…”

Gutierrez looked at the ceiling for two long beats, evidently trying to work out how to dumb it down for the two idiots in front of him.

Bucky kinda wanted to sink into the floor.

Steve looked like he wanted to rip it up.

Gutierrez grimaced and rubbed his hands over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m really not a neurologist. I’m going to give you the number of Dr Miriam Holst.” He sat up again and scribbled down a quick note. “She’s the one who reviewed your scans. She’ll be able to give you more information.”

He passed the note over, a scribbly scrawl that was even worse than Bucky’s, and sat back, hands in his lap again. “Essentially, the implant appears to be systematically blocking signals from your nervous system, which probably explains the numbness and paraesthesia you’ve been experiencing. As well as the erectile dysfunction.”

“Right…” Bucky’s voice didn’t really sound like his own.

He felt kinda like he was floating outside of himself, like he was no longer contained in his own body. Wondered briefly if he was having some kind of episode.

If this was the thing that finally unhinged him.

Steve’s hand dropped onto his knee, a warm weight through his jeans, dragging him back into the room. “What are the options?”

Gutierrez had the squirmy look of an insect that was caught in a jar. “It’s still very early. We need to do much more investigation. It may be that we can block its effects, or-“

“Doctor.”

That was Steve’s Captain America voice. The one that got people to do exactly what he wanted, and Gutierrez was no match for it, no matter how smooth he thought he was.

“I, I mean ultimately I suppose we’re talking about surgery, but-”

“How soon can you do it?”

Bucky felt sick. “Steve.”

Steve glanced across, squeezed his knee in an apology that wasn’t nearly enough.

Gutierrez was looking between them, before he turned steadfastly back to him. On a better day, Bucky might admire the way he was trying to weather the force of Stevie’s will.

But today wasn’t a better day.

“I’d advise caution. It may be that it serves to aid in the function of your arm, or the implants in your spine and ribs. Or something else entirely. I’d be wary of making any decisions before we understand what we’re dealing with.” He clasped his hands back in his lap. “It must, after all, be serving a function.”

Bucky blinked, and then suddenly understood why Sam liked this man so much. He still lived in a world where people needed a reason to do bad things.

Steve was staring like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The fist that wasn’t on Bucky’s knee was trembling. “What is there to decide? We’re takin it out.”

“We?”

Bucky was pretty sure he just took the temperature in the room down about ten degrees.

But Stevie just looked at him, all surprise. “You know what I meant.”

Like it was obvious, like all Bucky was in this was an obstacle between Steve and what Steve thought should happen.

And Bucky felt a swell of anger at him. Swiped his hand off his knee. “You gonna hold me down while he does it too, Stevie?”

A look of horror flashed across Steve’s face. “Buck, I didn’t-“

He shrugged away from Steve’s apologetic hand. Turned back to Gutierrez, who was doing an excellent job of pretending he wasn’t paying them and their spat any attention at all.

“What do you think?”

It came out harsher than he’d intended. A challenge to Gutierrez, to the whole goddamn world, and anyone who thought they had a say about what he did with his fucking body.

Gutierrez didn’t look phased at all.

“Firstly, I think you should give Miriam a call. She’ll be able to explain more, so you’ll be able to make a more informed decision.”

Gutierrez was looking composed again, all put together and neat, now he’d been able to fall back behind his comfortable mask. Apparently, Captain America was harder to face down politely than a fucked up war vet.

“She’s signed all the same documents I have, so you’ll be able to talk to her freely. Miriam is…” Gutierrez broke into a fond smile, “she’s an acquired taste. But you get used to her.”

Bucky took in the look on his face. Miriam Holst was definitely the reason for the missing wedding ring.

“There’s no need for you to rush into anything.” Gutierrez was looking between them again now. “It’s a lot of information to process. My advice is to go home. Talk about it. You can call me or Miriam whenever you like.”

Steve’s hand was back on his knee. Tentative, like he wasn’t sure it was welcome. Bucky covered it with his own.

“Thanks, doc.”

***

As soon as they were outside the room, Bucky pulled Steve in and buried his face his throat. And Steve just wrapped his arms around him and stood, like a shield.

The comparison had Bucky smiling… just a little.

“I’m sorry-”

“Don’t.” Bucky didn’t pull back. Knew that everything he was saying was being muffled by Steve’s skin, but he wasn’t ready to give up the contact. Not just yet. “It’s who you are. You see a problem and you want to fix it, and I love you for it.”

There was a pause. Steve’s hand was stroking at the back of his hair. “You’re not a problem.”

Bucky laughed, and finally pulled back so Steve could see his face, would know he was joking. “I mean, that’s debatable.”

The smile he got back was barely more than a twitch.

Then Steve looked at the floor. “Makes me so angry. So angry, I can’t even think straight.”

“I know.”

Steve looked up, all earnest sad blue eyes. “I know it’s wrong. It didn’t happen to me, and I shouldn’t…” He took in a deep breath. “But I can’t bear it. I can’t bear to think of it.”

His reached out like he wanted to pull him in again, but stopped halfway, hands hovering. Like Bucky was so fragile his bones might just shatter.

Bucky closed the distance between them, pressed his lips against his cheek. Like he could kiss away all that sadness and all that anger.

Because it had no place on Stevie’s face. Not a damn bit of it.

He felt some of the tautness ease out of Steve’s shoulders, and he retook his position, face pressed into the warmth of him.

“They did it on purpose, didn’t they? Made it so I couldn’t…”

He didn’t really need to finish. It was the reason they were here after all. The numbness in his fingers and the weird feelings across his skin were irritating, but they weren’t really a problem. And they came and went.

But _that_ was the only thing that wasn’t constant and complete. It had to have been on purpose.

He knew that from the start, really.

It was such a petty bit of control.

There was no point to it at all. Except to make every little piece of him theirs.

It was somehow worse than what had come after. The damage they’d done to him inside. How they’d done it…

He hadn’t told the doctor about that. One embarrassing sex problem at a time.

And any conversation that started ‘oh yeah, by the way, one time a half dozen guys took me outside…’ could wait indefinitely as far as he was concerned.

Steve pulled him tighter. “I’d string them all up for you, if I could.”

And if that didn’t make his heart ache just a little bit more. For how changed they both were.

For all the anger that Steve had now.

He pulled back so he could look at him. “I don’t want you to. I just want you.”

Steve pressed their foreheads together. “You got me, pal.”

***

In the foyer, the woman was still there, with a man this time, instead of a nurse. They were clinging to each other, in the middle of the streams of people. As if they were at the bottom of a deep, deep pit, but it didn’t matter because at least they were together.

As soon as they were outside, Steve slipped his hand into his, their gloved palms pressed together. It was a bit like being children again.

“So,” Bucky could hear in Steve’s voice that he was smiling, “Dr Miriam…”

“Oh, he is definitely boning her.”

Steve laughed. “You sure got a lovely way with words, Buck.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “Wait til you see what else I can do with my mouth.”

“Mmmm. That’s what Miriam said.”

Bucky laughed so loudly that a couple on the other side of the street turned to look at them.

He leaned into Steve’s ear. “You’re gonna get me into trouble.”

Steve smiled and brought his hand up to his lips. “Habit of a lifetime.”

Oh boy, was he not kidding.

And Bucky wouldn’t change a thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting fact: Neural implants are an actual thing. They were tested on both animals and people in the 1950s to control behaviour and emotional responses. Read: to make *difficult* psychiatric patients more cooperative. There's also some suggestion that they were trialled in MKUltra, but that is denied by everyone involved. 
> 
> They're still used to treat things like Parkinson's and epilepsy. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this tiny continuation.


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